Leonardo's Assistant
by TheMasterOfYourFate
Summary: She had put up a bit of a fight when they first caught her.She was bored, down to her bones, so she decided to put on a little show. A Grand Finale, of sorts. But that was over, and now she planned to stir a little mayhem in Arkham.


Title: Leonardo's Apprentice

Author: Clumsylittlegirl

Prolugue: The Beginning

Authors Note: So, this may be a little on the raw side. But trust me, this isn't "hot off the presses" or something like that. I've been working on it for a while now, and I won't divulge how long but its been an on and off thing. So, I've contemplating whether or not to post it, but now I'm just going to throw all caution to the wind and just go with my gut. I hope you guys can pick up what I'm going for, but if you don't, *shrugs-, I guess I failed at that. I'm satisfied with it, so I hope you guys will be. Anyway, without further delay here is your fic.

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><p>She let herself be led forward, not resisting, because she didn't have a reason to resist. She also learned her lesson the first time she resisted. When she was first apprehended, she had put up a bit of a fight. She didn't really care what they were talking about, it all sounded boring. Something about a Miranda? But she was bored, down to her bones, so she decided to put on a little show. A Grand Finale of sorts. But that went down the drains when some...thing came and stopped her from finishing. She shivered. That officer was pretty scary. If he was even a one. He didn't dress like one, but, hey, what did she know?<p>

Probably more than these poor schmucks but that was alright. She knew she was better than them all in the end.

But she was wondering where they were taking her. She didn't recognize anything in the hallway so she assumed she hadn't been down the hall. Though she was only let out once and that was when she first woke up, and she was sort of loopy from whatever drugs they gave her.

Today, she was drugs free, for some reason. But yesterday, or whenever she had last came out of that godforsaken room, she was given a cocktail of loony toony meds. She felt more fidgety today than she did yesterday,(or two days ago, a week ago? Months, she couldn't tell, it was a long time, or maybe it was just her.) because when she was with Gordy she had felt calm, and for once, _for once!_, she could sort through her thoughts without actively being confused. Without her mind racing. Without fidgeting, smoothing, gnawing, jiggling, doing anything to get that hyperactive energy out of her system.

After they were done with Gordon, they dumped her in that boring, boring, BORING, room of hers, and didn't give her the time of day. But they hadn't shot her up for todays meeting. Nope, she was clean, and her thoughts were whirling around like a train station set on high speed times a bajillion. But when she could actually think...

It was so they could talk to her about her thrilling crime. So, she wouldn't be bouncing up and down, like a puppy dog. And my goddess, she just compared herself to a puppy, but still that's the only reason she could think of that would validate their response. So, she would be crystal clear to answer their questions, admit some depressing, wrist cutting back story that would get her pity, and then, they would put her in some sloppy, one sided therapy, so she could _heal_. Yeah, right. Like that could happen. If she was broken, and shes not, she knows shes not, she could fix herself. She's not a damsel in distress, as much as she looks like it.

And goddess does she know it. With that blonde straight hair, those baby blue eyes, she knows she looks like a stereotypical maiden in distress. But this little girl wasn't in distress, she needed no one's help, and she could fend for herself. She had supposedly...

Well she still have no idea what she supposedly did. She'd tried to ask one of the guards what she did, multiple times, but they all either ignored her, or glared. One guard, of the female persuasion, almost burst into tears, so she stopped asking. It was pretty weird.

They passed the room she was first let into, AKA interrogation room, and where she found out that Gordon, that big meanie, liked telling her big lies. He had promised her ice cream if she had answered his questions. And she did, and if they were indirectly he couldn't get mad. He never specified _how_ to answer. Just to do so.

Gordon, was a police commissioner, so she guessed that whatever she did was pretty serious. He kept frowning at her and once he even asked her if she wanted to see The Batman. She didn't really have the urge to see a bat at that moment. Nor did she want to see some overgrown man dressed up as a Bat, it sounded a bit creepy. So, she politely declined. But, she said, she would be grateful if he told her why she was there. She asked him, if he could tell her, or was that a national secret? He just shook his head, and told me,

"You know what you did, blah blah blah, responsibility, blah blah blah, blah blah blah." She kind of tuned out, so She really didn't hear what he said. But she was exceedingly curious about the snippet she did hear.

She didn't participate in the conversation after that. Gordon got frustrated after a few and made them take her back to her cell. Which as far as she could tell was in maximum security. She could tell because there were doors instead of bars, and because there were zillions more guards here. There were a couple more guards on the south end of the hall, by her room, but she really didn't think the guards were there for her; most of them were stationed down the hall from her. Though one of the guards by her room gave her a warning glance when she passed him. So, she smiled brightly at him, and he shrank back, for some reason.

The guard that was dragging her, pulled on her cuffs, sharply, and barked out some standard default command, which she sluggishly replied to. But it wasn't like she was tired, she had gotten so much sleep in her room, it was crazy. No, she was a little bored, and stiff but that was because her room was a little less than accommodating. But she was sure when she mentioned it to someone they would rectify that. She was dragging her feet behind the hulking, brunette guard, because it seems being slow seemed to make the guard frustrated.

He looked like he wanted to spend the least amount of time with her as possible. She didn't blame him, she guessed. She was really annoying, and was trying to make his job as frustrating as possible. But that was because she didn't have anything to do in this dusty old place. It was getting, dare she say it, repetitive, sleeping in her room, and staring at the walls.

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><p>The guard grunted and stopped, to direct her into some room. Well, direct isn't the right word, pushed, thrown, or catapulted would be the right term. As she stumbled into the room the guard slammed the door shut. And when she regained my balance, her eyes rested on her next victim.<p>

"Inkblots? Really?"

"Is something wrong with that?"

"Nah. Just..a little stereotypical, don'cha think?"

"No, I do not. Just tell me what you see."

"Okay..a bug. A bug. A brain scan. Two grim reapers about to kiss...a macabre version of Alice. A thin version of Big Daddy. A big, ugly bearded dude. A demented Santa Claus. Dude in a ballet outfit, smoking two cigars. Blood?"

"Was that a question?"

"Was that one?"

"Just answer me."

"I asked a question too, ya know."

"But I asked it first."

"Yeah, well I asked it third and third is the charm!"

"…"

"…"

"Please just answer my question."

"I don't know."

"That doesn't help me."

"I know."

She smirked, and the Doctor rubbed her temples.

"Listen..."

She paused trying to decide what to call her. We've been scrambling around to find information about her, looking around Gotham, in hospitals, schools, dentists, eye doctors, local employers. We've interviewed locals, to see if they've seen her around, and known who she was, but they only know her by her alias. It looked like, as of now, this girl had no identity.

"Kaytie."

"Kaytie? Is that you're real name?"

"You don't know, Doc?"

"Not really. We don't have much of a file on you."

That was the biggest understatement of the century. All they had on her was her crimes, age, and her alias. Gotham police have started calling her Leonardo's Apprentice because of the crime scenes she left behind. She would pose the people into normal, typical everyday scenes. For what reasons were only for her to understand. Then in the background she drew one of Leonardos stunning portraits, adding her own touches here and there.

Apparently she had taken a liking to the name, nicknaming herself, Leo, when she felt the need to leave notes behind at the scene of the crime.

"That's a pity, I was looking forward to seeing my file."

"Sorry. You can't." Did she actually think she was going to hand over her file? "It's the rules." She added when she started pouting.

"Rules schmules." She murmured under her breath. "I just wanted to know what my name was. Or what THEY think it is."

"They?"

"The Man. Gotham's authority."

"Oh. Well is Kaytie not your real name?"

"Maybe. I really don't know."

"Are you sure you don't know?"

"Would I lie to you?"

"I don't know. I haven't known you long enough to know if I should trust you or not."

" Aren't cha supposed to trust me, Doc?"

"Truthfully?"

"Sure. I despise liars, and it can't be that bad."

"Well, you're a criminal. So, to some extent I really can't trust."

"True. But I don't know why I'm here. So, technically I'm not a criminal."

"You don't understand why you're here?"

"Nope." She pops her lips when she says this, so they it sounds like "No-Puh."

She stared at her, puzzled and interested... It didn't look like she was lying, she was looking her in the eye.

"Well, Kaytie, you killed-" or should she say massacred-"twelve people." Not to mention all those people we haven't found. The police were still trying to extract the information from her.

Kaytie, if that was her real name, blinked, and tilted her head.

"So, that's what I did? Interesting."

"Do you understand the severity in what you did?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"You guess?"

"That's what I said, isn't it?" She said suddenly irritated. She turned slightly away from her, crossing her arms, scowling.

She blinked, surprised. She was just in a agreeable mood a few minutes ago, and then she changes in a tenth of a second. She hasn't showed any signs of being anti-social. She had been giggling and smiling through the whole meeting. When she first came in, she winked at the doctor.

She jotted this down in her notes.

'Severe change in mood. Doesn't like having to repeat things. Possible Antisocial personality disorder? Or borderline. Look into it. Inkblots suggest a twisted mind."

"Whatcha writing, Doc?" she asks. Kaytie must have seen her writing. She wasn't exactly subtle about it. But the irritation from before has left her voice, and she just sounded curious.

"Just notes. Nothing to worry about. Now why did you get so mad before?" She said trying to distract her, because she had ran the session off track. And she only had...twenty minutes left with her. And she hadn't even managed to bring up the IQ, or the psychoanalysis test. Well, maybe the next session. Which was next Tuesday.

"I don't like repeating myself." she said airily, licking her lips and reminding her a certain patient...She pushed that put of her mind and tried to focus my attention on her.

Sure she had some similarities to him, like the fact that they both were always grinning and smiling all the time

They both were always constantly moving. Either jiggling a foot in restlessness, waving an arm while making a point clear, fidgeting with their hands, they seemed like a never-ending flow of power.

But they had differences.

Hers was a pure and clear laugh, but his had a sound of insanity to his.

Her movement never really stopped, and his didn't either. Not until he was deep under the drugs, but even then he was twitching.

But she was younger, about sixteen, so if I was assuming correctly, than they caught this early enough to treat it correctly. But he was older and the mental illness had taken over his mind; he didn't deserve to be treated here. But they acted so alike.

But they couldn't be the same. Because that would mean she was too far gone to save. And she wouldn't give up on her.

A knock on the door signaled it was time for Kaytie to go.

She smirked at me, snickering. "Well, it seems like our time is up, Doc." She said, rising up from her chair, and lifting her hands up so where they came in they could cuff them. "When will I see you next?" she asked, looking up, curiously.

She looked down at my work and started scribbling down more of my observations. She had patient 4479 next, and knowing him, he would be a handful.

"Next Tuesday." She said, curtly.

"Awesome." she said, giving her a thumbs up. "Can't wait for our next therapy session, Doc! But, if I may ask?"

"Ask away."

"What's today's date? My little stay here has messed up my internal clock, if you know what I'm saying?"

She blushed a deep red, and stammered out a apology. Of course Kaytie wouldn't know what the day was. She hadn't been out of her cell for a long time, she probably didn't even know what time it was. She told her the date, and Kaytie smirked a little.

The knocking became more incessant, and Kaytie smirk dropped.

"Is something wrong, Kaytie?"

She shook her head, and smiled. "Nope."

The guards came in that instant and clamped her up.

And her smile turned deadly, as she was led out of the door.

She shuddered.

Yes, she was going to try her hardest to cure her.

But...

She was a bit creepy...

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><p>~ Chapter FIN~<p>

So, hope you review!~ I look forward to hearing your opinion, whether it's good or bad.


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